


Soft Landing

by WolffyLuna



Series: "His Edited Heart" series [3]
Category: Horus Heresy - Various Authors, Warhammer 40.000, Warhammer 40k (Novels) - Various Authors
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Cuddling & Snuggling, Horus is creepy, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, but most of the creepy is off screen, most of the hurt was in previous installments, off screen rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-30
Updated: 2014-01-30
Packaged: 2018-01-10 14:01:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1160532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WolffyLuna/pseuds/WolffyLuna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tarik finds himself being Hastur's shoulder to cry on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Soft Landing

Tarik expected the knock at the door of his quarters. Hastur had taken to telling him when a ‘private meeting’ was happening, so hecould be prepared.

  
He threw the paperwork onto the floor, rolled off the bed and stood up. “Who is it?” Not that he needed to ask. It was obvious.

 

“It’s me.” Hastur’s voice was hoarse and broken, and it sounded like he’d been crying. He didn’t sound like the Hastur Tarik had known. He didn’t sound like he was yelling across a battlefield, leading a glorious charge. He didn’t sound like he was joking with friends, all smile and restrained joy.

  
It was a pity Tarik was getting used to that voice.

  
“Come in.”

  
There was a sound of someone trying to punch in the door code through tear blurred eyes.

  
“Hang on.”  Tarik walked over to the door, and pressed the open button. The door slid into the recess.

  
Hastur stood outside, still trying to punch the code in. Yellowed bruises marred his fingers and shoulders. Tarik tried not to stare. He’d never gotten used to the idea that these had come from the Primarch. He couldn’t visualise it. Horus was fair. He listened to his sons. He’d never hurt them. But there were the bruises, and Hastur’s eyes were red.

  
Tarik cleared his throat.

  
Hastur looked up from the keypad. He blinked a couple of times, and pushed past Tarik into his quarters.

  
Tarik let hin through. No point questioning why he didn’t notice the door opening. He already knew the answer.

  
Hastur collapsed face first on to the bed, his shoulders shaking.

  
“Do you want to talk about it?”

  
Hastur just shook his head.

  
“That’s okay.” Tarik inched towards the bed, watching for Hastur’s reaction.

  
Hastur rolled onto his side and stared at the aquila on the opposite wall.

  
Tarik lay down carefully on the other side, chest just brushing against Hastur’s back. “This fine?”

  
Hastur nodded. He paused. “I’m sorry.”

  
“It’s not your fault.” He patted Hastur’s cheek with his knuckle.

  
Hastur smelled of sweat, and not just ordinary sweat, combat sweat, all hormonal and charcoal smelling. “Doesn’t have to be yours though.”

  
Tarik lifted himself up onto his arms. “Hey, look at me.”

  
Hastur glanced back, looking blank.

  
“You need to have someone to support you, and I’m okay with you choosing me. I would’ve told you if I wasn’t. Okay?”

  
Hastur nodded and turned his head back. “Okay.”

  
Tarik lay back down, and Hastur pressed up against him. Tarik wrapped an arm around him.

  
Hastur’s eyes closed, and he sighed.

  
***

  
Hastur stood outside the strategium door, rocking on his heels and knitting and unknitting his fingers.

  
Tarik walked up to him and laid a hand on his shoulder. “Everything alright?”

  
Hastur dipped his head to side. “I’m just nervous. It’s not private, but--”

  
“--Horus is going to be there.”

  
Hastur nodded.

  
“I can give moral support. I’ll hold your hand and everything.” He joked, trying to lift Hastur’s spirits. It had worked in the past. Sort of.

  
“That sounds lovely.”

  
Tarik flinched. He didn’t expect Hastur to take him seriously. He knew Hastur didn’t want to show it, had told him as much. Still he had offered, and he didn’t mind. If this would help him, he’d do it. He took his hand off Hastur’s shoulder and threaded his fingers through Hastur’s.

  
Hastur squeezed his hand, and they walked through the door, Tarik still a little surprised.

  
***

  
Abaddon cornered Tarik in a corridor. He towered of him, and backed him against the wall.

  
Tarik glared up at him and puffed out his chest, trying to look at least a little bit as tough as Abaddon. Not that it’s fool anyone, especially with the First Captain still in his Terminator plate. “What do you want?”

  
Abaddon stared down at him, and stood chestplate to chestplate. “I want to know if you’re romantically involved with Hastur Sejanus.”

  
Tarik screwed his face up. Did Abaddon really think that? “No!” _I wouldn’t take advantage like that._ Then his memory finally kicked in, and slapped him over the head. The hand-holding, the cuddling, the general intimacy, that was romance, right? “Yes. Maybe. I’m not sure.”

  
Abaddon huffed out a breath. “I’m just making sure you’re not taking advantage of you position of soft landing.”

  
Tarik growled involuntarily. “I’m not a soft landing.”

  
Abaddon didn’t react. Well, his non-reaction was still a reaction, an ‘I don’t see you as enough of a threat to even bother with the fact you growled at me.’

  
It made Tarik want to growl again, as much as he was embarrassed by the fact he did  it the first time.

  
“You’re helping him when he’s hurting, and you’re involved with him romantically. You’re a soft landing.” He turned on his heel and stalked off, leaving Tarik to growl at thin air and to wonder whether the First Captain knew about Horus.

  
*** (Some time later)

  
Tarik woke up, and checked the chron read out. Still night time. He blinked and rolled back over.

  
Loken lay next to him, back muscles twitching as he breathed. .

  
Tarik smiled. Loken looked cute when he was asleep, all blonde hair and soft face and--

  
_No. No, he’s a different person._

  
Tarik wrapped an arm around Garvi’s waist and pressed himself against his back.

  
His brain flitted back to the memory.

  
_No. He’s not Hastur 2.0. They’re different people._

_Loken’s not a soft landing._

**Author's Note:**

> Next up: Abaddon's POV!


End file.
